When I close my eyes,
I can picture myself being ****
I wrote down my ideas on my naked body
not the perfect curves, for an outstanding silhouette?
but my body, my canvas,
I created this literary masterpiece:
a little something for you and a little something for me,

I scribble a stanza or two on my chest,
and I watch as my body heat melt the words away
without allowing a poem to be created

My ****** tattoos open up like rose from the poem
Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose one from Gertrude Stein famous line.

Outline my words with admiration,
until my mind accept the connection
My body, my canvas, my visionary centerpiece, my satisfaction,
Like sand through an hour glass,
I have created this body of poetry.

A treacherous heart set its mark

My beautiful lips you long to kiss
became the daffodils in springtime
As it slowly, unfolded by the sound of his Tenor voice.
I remember him, but I never remember his ****** touch

All poets are not romantic, but our poems can
creates a romantic setting, allowing us to see and feel
the words in each line.

A famous writer once wrote.
Have a heart that never hardens,
and a temper that never tires,
and a touch that never hurts.”—Charles Dickens

The mind, body and soul havoc the hearts
into believing that our love is worth fighting for
my caramel exposed **** reveal my darkest secret
my ****** quest was answered.

"while nibbling my ear he whisper my name
the sound of his voice, command my heart to accept love
or was it was the feedback from those dilated eyes?

the thoughts of his hand caressing my inner thigh
his hot balsam breath, working the curve of my neck
breathing life into the foreplay: my imagination of his
tranquilizing earthy cologne made me sigh with relief;
that set me drunk with desire, with the deep power of joy

We cannot quench the thirst without our vision, our heart, our life,
Or our passion, restoring our relationship wouldn’t be answered

I just woke up and it dawn upon me, "I am single.!
however my energy is filled with loving thoughts from my past.
or is it misrepresented of truth?

Even in our dreams, but nowhere else,
imagine that my love

We seem to have landed on cloud nine:
Somehow we awoke in goose down feathers
Our sweaty bodies were drape
with 1000 thread Egyptian cotton sheet
Our ******* wasn’t unique,
our passion came off like a dangerous religion
Sneaky, sneaky, but always ostentatious to the facts like
Ripley's Believe It or Not

A New beginning, a new chapter a new natural high
What is love? We must never mistake it for ****** favors
*** we see it, we hear about it we discuss it behind closed doors
Give us your blessing, blessed our puppy love
Moreover please forgive or transgression.
A New beginning, a new chapter...a natural high
~~~

I became your favorite obsession
I wondered if my last hour had come.
I am not alive until you called,
In an hour or two my cell phone becomes as hot as I am.
Take me, break me, I can’t be obedient,

I want to feel whole again…
without looking over my shoulder.
Oh my wounded and troubled heart
My soul is in deep anguish,
Without this forceful conquest

Within my eyes, jealousy wedge deep
Because of my self-critical thoughts,
My early rejections, my feeling, thoughts and action:

Our grandmother’s words came to be fulfilled
“An old fashion botheration,
   My indulgence from my past,
This led to an old fashion romance,
That wasn’t resolved then or now.

Take this kiss from my lip
And in return take off your glasses
and let me see your weary eyes
You are not wrong, my jealousy is a disease

If life had be kinder to us,
I would have been yours,
And you would have been mine.
I would have been the slave to you,

I stood by the window, and stare down at couples walking by
holding hands and I thought about them and I think about us:
Making further plans and I waved my hand to them
and smile because love is a lie.

heart of darkness encounter of lies
I have paid my dues, I settled my tithes.

How can I tell my heart to stop loving him?
I became his favorite obsession, now he’s mine
Take me, break me, I can’t be obedient,
I want to feel whole again, my friend

My wounded and troubled heart,
My soul is in deep anguish,
without this forceful conquest
So why do I weep in my sleep?

My God of refuge, what was the hidden truth?
I played with fire, and now I am burnt.

My soul has been ****** dry,
due to the rising body temperature,
This drove me to speak in tongues

I close my eyes and I drift deep into a bed of jelly
as my heart called out your name,
My body became lifeless
and we become one with our feelings.

The screen maximized  and there you were
waiting patiently for me
and for the first time I really heard you speak my name.
  You lighten up the screen, you transcend.
I was captivated by your mysterious looks.

Something felt sweet and innocent,
was it your shyness..
Or was it in my private thoughts?

As we tease each other:
I saw fears within your eyes.
With the breakthrough,
you saw the joy within mine
For true love is passionate love that never fades:

Never again would we hide our feelings,
or made to feel abashed of what was meant to be.
Our eyes stare into the camera, our souls reconnected:

You made me feel whole again, when we talk of love
How many times since our reunion have we seen the blueness of the sky?
the lovely smell of the blooming roses from miles away
These forbidden ****** desires of a platonic love affair pressing
deep into the core of my heart.

Not free to be in each other’s arms, but brave enough to
Follow our hearts: we’ve set the bar high
Now we must reach for the star..

Whilst I was walking down the street this morning
I tried to be polite and inconspicuous to a passing stranger

He stares directly into my eyes;
My brown eyes speak louder than my husky voice
without the spoken words or improvisation.

What was he looking for?
Did he like what he saw?

The pain, shame or a sense of connection
Love, is nowhere to be found in my eyes,

It's ruthless, it deems, it disappoints
By now we all know the stories about the pain
Of lost-love,

It begins with a smile
A kiss a warm embrace,
The tears and fears during the last years
of something that was once so beautiful..

Did he love the raven in my eyes?
Sorry stranger! ,
I played the game of love and lost
I paid my tithes, sorry stranger!

Caw, caw, caw!
Did the stranger love the looks of the raven in my eyes?

His hair is short and white
Twilight years of what counseling and wisdom brings
We all must cross over;
However, why must we accept the aging process?

Scented with coconut oil, his hair shines
Brighter under the Caribbean sunrise
I wish for him to texturizes it,  
Without losing his identity, without damaging
The roots of the follicles succulent extremity

Nervously, he runs his fingers through the ends
Making it seems like  if everything is alright.
For me, I long to see his youth again
The Afro, the look, the seventy trends;
Someone, up North love and adore her friend

I will never forget our date
Under the cool evening sun that led
to a wonderful enchanting night
Nerve pain and sweaty palms
We smile throughout the whole ordeal like champs

The camera capture a moment of truth near the fountain
while the sound of the water whispered our names
not Romeo or Juliet but Rommel and Annie

  Tense moments, unanswered questions throughout the meal
somehow our smiles, determine the rhythm
Of our heart beats, but our strong faith saves us
From naughty thoughts, enough to create a memorable kiss
We never set out to want each other like wild cats
Little did we realize we had the key to each other heart?

True love is so rare; I am still searching for it.
Even though lovely things like us had to
endure years of unhappiness
we must bear in mind that Jesus he too also
Endure one side to get to the other

All signs were there, yet we failed to see them

Today we are playing it safe and crossing only one signal,
Love hurts when we settle for less than the best.
I am always embracing the dark side of my creativity:
I am always searching for ways to add to the love without the hurt.

Second hand love:
Have I come this far to be a second hand love?
where is my rose, where is my morning smile,
where is my goodnight kiss and
where is my number one guy.

After, I said goodbye: to my yesterday tears
The sun shifted away from the lemon trees
In requital of my leaving my yesterday behind
Was it a sign, was it my imagination?

I remember their eyes, I remember the tears
I remember their touch,  I remember their
Style, Diction, Tone, and Voice  
which never faded from my mind

I love you, I love you, I love them
and I knew I loved their shameless plug

However, my shameless heart,
and baring soul wanted more,
but never to be their soul mates,
I wanted to be free,
I wanted the other side of fear,
I wanted the other side of fear to rise up with me.

For the wonderful ladies, who loved them for me?
Keep on loving them,
you need them more than I do………

There is no grass left for them

There is no beginning to an end of the trolls
It’s today, it’s this morning, and it was also yesterday
They were putting the poet’s poems into the earth
Our creative work, curled like sour milk.

I don't understand what the troll motivation was
For crushing our dreams deep into the ground;
Without giving us the plus and minus grades,

Frederick Herzberg came to me in a dream
and whispered these words:
Satisfaction and motivation
One remark he made before he vanishes from my dream
He asked me if I knew how to get rid of sour milk smell?

*** within marriage is pleasurable,
even, if he had six wives,
so why was Henry VIII displeased?

Madness!!

It’s the little things we pondered the most
When hitting the ceiling
But we tried it in silence
Allowing the good times to simmer

You only watch the news to find out
Where the con artist stands,
He opens his mouth and nonsense comes out

And whether it matter to us or not;
We have to make sure that the Philanthropist
Doesn’t make it to the white house
Mr. Obama said that he has faith in the American people
Do you have faith in yourself?
or the mockingbird on the platform?

The Heart of the Woman
Whose heart has been broken a
thousand and one times
pain of heartaches, dream destroyed

She remembers, he forgets
the heart became so,
dark as the African night sky
She was scare of the dark,
she was afraid to love again.

Suddenly, like a flower the heart slowly unfold like a rose.
The heart of the woman loves again.

She already knew what she wanted
he kept insisting that’s work, work
She was so hot, hot; he was so cold,

Her hot flashes, verses his cold feet
Bring on the friction, or the vapor rub
Some way or another, she was getting some

Forget about the work, work, and work
Not fishing for compliments: she hints,
Just some good old fashioned comfort and enjoyment

During the fidgety February morning,
While money was on his mind
his baby’s hands was under the sheet,
with that timely rhythmic breathing of a
Metronomic beat, leading up to their ****** healing
Without the thought of work, work, work


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oiGHY6q-snI#t=12

Like whisky to a newbie
She said *** with her is so amazing,
Should her lovers take her words for granted?
  to the echo chamber, an invitation of uncertainty awaits
on the others side of love.

Just like any property a ****** is still a risky investment
Just like any investment could be,  
Another extremely shameless plug
As she pumps up the volume,
Like a female rebel on the run from the law

They love everything about this Island beauty
Like whisky to a newbie, her poetic euphoric vibes
  take them higher and higher, as her fans dance the night away

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jgf_I9vepDo

My poems travel far
It doesn’t need a visa
Or a green card to enter the heart of many
It doesn’t need your permission,
to make others smiles
My poems will always be foreign to you

Translated in the gift of tongues,
My poems owes you nothing,
But it promises you more,
Let my travelling poems be my gift to you;

With a trendy feel of a human touch
in which the world need now.
Free *****, but let my poems travel

Once again lonely winter days and frigid nights
Hibernation or desperation flutter one’s mind
Oh how we long for those summer day, as we
Basked in the warmth of the sun rays,
Pink umbrella glasses of Pinna Coladas or
Coconut-flavored Malibu ***

Now it's what will be will be
Quod erit, erit!

The last bikini tan lines of summer fade like autumn leave
But here today it still lingered in one’s mind
It was a summer of secrets or was it too much exposure to the sun?

The gleaming sand upon the Caribbean shores
Summer!  Oh summer where are you?
Oh summer, oh summer where you,
Please slapdash with your misty blue skies

With a little Nod to Michael R. Burch

Let me give him all the respect he deserve
for his yearly contribution
my heart is now content

Let me give him a Cuban cigar
for my feet stay warm
Without my fluffy socks

Let me give him my favorite pillow
for my head  laid on a patch of hair chest
a warm embrace

Let the warm of his body
Outlast this New York weather
Intervals

Let me give him a guitar
for all sentimental reason
a joy within my heart

Let me give him the keys to my car
for public transportation is costly
  Money is nothing

Let me burn lavender candles
Its lighten the mood
Less worried

the world seem a brighter place
last night
what a lovely Valentine’s eve.
I didn't get to sleep at all.

The Pain of Being in Love
With Someone You Can Never Be With.

You might think you are not thinking, but you are.
Lonely nights, wishful days thinking and planning,
Of how your life should have been,

There are two kinds of pain, but there are three kinds
of lovers, pain, insanity and
there is love in you waiting to give…
Suddenly you think of them as one
Falling in love, feeling the pain, and going insane...

Love is a very painful, insanity is rare
However, True love is a choice,
Lovers' festival is for true lovers,
Pain, Love, And Insanity of Red heart’s day

Behind each smile is a silent frown
Behind each door is a chair turn upside down
Behind each super bowl history,
there were losers, winners, and yes

There were some wonderful entertainment,
Beyoncé and Lady Gaga,
the mighty twins and you....

Now back at the table of poetry,
there is the Bacchanal throw-out…
the mighty twin and you....

Louder than a **** in a silent room
louder than an thunder roll
louder than a deaf mute
or a woman during labor
louder than cows on the pasture
or a wailing of a baby's cry
louder than a siren on a police cruiser
Louder than a fireman truck racing to a fire
louder than a carpenter who accidental nail his finger to the floor
louder than a chairman at a board meeting
as he try to get the crowd to come to order
louder than an angry mob in Washington after the Federal building shut down
louder than a preacher without the microphone
louder than I on grandparent's day
that's how loud the bigots barks

69
ways to please your lover
He takes the nine,
and you take the six positons
Checkmating! or checkmate

Kindness in words creates confidence. Kindness in thinking creates profoundness. Kindness in giving creates love.  **
— Lao Tzu

the  last   bus  has  left  
another four hours to wait
the passengers sigh

I remember the exact moment
when I locked my heart,
I heard the sweet melody
once again in my favorite songs
I felt my skin tightening against
the harshness of the world
And it felt so great, so delightful
no more pain, no more tears,

I never want to conquered love;
I never wanted to feel trapped
I just want to live; I just wanted to be free
I took my life back, and I slowly regain my sanity
I cast out those demons, and then I wrote a poem,
About the demons, love, and lost and my wildest dream

I am now sleeping in a dream of summer weather
As I awake to a wonderful good morning phrases
A phrase, I had lost so long ago,

The caroling birds outside my window
What a beautiful sight?
What a beautiful morning

Mine Salutations in the morning are now like vitamins
Good morning, good morning, good morning strangers
Take these vitamins with you folks, remember this poem
And do remember me.

On snowy night I would smile upon the Gods
I asked them if there’s a heaven for the rich man
And what is in store for the poor man
who shivered in the open air, from the cold.

Would the rich man's golden casket make a different?
Would his fortune and fame entitled them
To be seated at the council meetings?

He texted me and said,
Time will tell… time will tell,
There is only one river, one sea,
There is only one gate, and the only exit is down**,

Somewhere, there is a poem in our heads
About, Love, life, politics, natural disasters,
Religion and conflicts controversial issues

Suddenly, here come the uprising wars in politics
Isis and The Donald Trumps of the world crusaders
Here, we are as citizens, once again, starting to feel down,
Trying to find beauty in life, throughout the fixation,
obsession with tic, TAC, toe politicians.

Somewhere, there is poem ,a  poem in waiting,
waiting, waiting, waiting, and waiting,
  Too many words, not enough ink for printing,
not enough folks, who cares about such matters.
Because, they saw the up and down to natural disaster,
the tricks of trade in the political world of politics

Even if we do comes across a little harmony in love,
Because, out of clutter, find simplicity, said Albert Einstein.

P.S

We are all equal in the fact that we are all different. We are all the same in the fact that we will never be the same. We are united by the reality that all colors and all cultures are distinct & individual. We are harmonious in the reality that we are all held to this earth by the same gravity. We don't share blood, but we share the air that keeps us alive. I will not blind myself and say that my black brother is not different from me. I will not blind myself and say that my brown sister is not different from me. But my black brother is he as much as I am me. But my brown sister is she as much as I am me.” *
― C. JoyBell C.

Study nature, love nature, stay close to nature. It will never fail you.  
— Frank Lloyd Wright

My God is no actor,
he need no script to make a winning role
He is the master of all things
he forgives our debts and our failures
without him, we are nothing

It is not from nature  but from education and habits that our wants are chiefly derived.

Earth has its boundaries,  but humans  stupidity is limitless.

G.  FLAUBERT

It is so pleasant to come across people more stupid than ourselves.  we love them at once for being so.

J K .JEROME

Would I ever love again?
Would I ever walk hand in hand in the
Snow or the frigid rain
Would I ever smile again?
with you  in the snowy weather?
Or embrace the summer heat
Without wondering: Why
If I would ever love again?

Love is an unpredictable emotion
Love is a variety of different feelings,

No heat, no sunshine.
please bring out the moonshine,

While the cowboys ride their horses
you must ride out this intensity of the winds
Mother Nature sings as the frozen lake slowly cracks
Casting her jeering spell of laughter,

Nine deaths so far, because of the storm
Ice is ice, not solid ground,
just take a look around
Stay indoors and write a poem
this storm is showing no sign of backing down

As the flimsy branches snaps
The Caribbean babbling brooks echoes
the sound of the steel band rocks the island
Into J’ouvert morning
Up north their bodies shiver up their spines;
But, somehow the wild birds
kept warm during this winter morn

The darker the blue, the heavier the snow
Casting her jeer, with deep cold laughter
The blizzard of 2016, as one lonely cabby
Slowly rolled down the street,
this white winter wonder land

I came close to throwing a bone to the dogs
They made that awful sound before running off
Why did they startle the beast within?
Knowingly, they couldn’t finish the war

The heart knows its own bitterness,
and no outsider shares in its joy.
Pain is pain, regardless as to whom or what suffers it
Bullying should not be tolerated
I came close to throwing a bone to the bullies
B stand Bravery, Bullies, and Blowhards

I am the poet whose work, others thought
Was useless, So, I did just once
What they say I couldn’t do
I got creative, just to get their attention
Somehow, motivation and meditation moves me

But to blend all the Kool-Aid flavors together seems so unreal
So instead, I focus on the small trees amongst the tall trees
Canst thou prophesy, thou little tree,
What the glory of the boughs shall be

I woke up this morning, the other, they stay in bed
I breathe life into this experimental poem, while they
They lay there like a tombstone,
you might get where I am going with this image

When the poet writes, his audience connects with him
The others, they lay there like a tombstone.
my poetry know no solitude, my podium; my stadium, my voice
I can be free in the world--free to speak even when my words are not received

A good poet is someone who manages, in a lifetime of standing out in thunderstorms, to be struck by lightening five or six times; a dozen or two dozen times and he is great.'  

Randall Jarrell

To all my followers
This year let my words nurse you
Back to life,
Come hold the end of my pen
Let’s us take this poetic journey together
Words without end: Amen



*Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass it's about
learning to dance in the rain

I doubt,
I woke up this morning with doubt
I doubt I would ever find happiness
In a spike smoothie
I am being driven more toward;
the sea madness

I doubt I will ever take that trip to California
Or print my name on the wall of Jericho
because of the Israelites;

I doubt I would ever buy that $3000 Gucci bag
Just to empty out my account
I doubt I will ever swim in the ocean, again
my courage always rises with
every attempt to intimidate me.

I doubt I will ever walk the lonely street late at night again
If a pervert **** his mother,
No doubt what he would do to me
For him I am a sunless garden when the flowers are dead.
I doubt I would ever be able to write a sonnet, because
The feeling of frustration comes as a result
of my mixed emotional states
My parents doubted that I would have never made it this far
Because most micro preemie baby never survived

I doubt, doubt would never leave my side
Through the pain, through the doubt, here I am
today the doubtful unknown poet

To take back our love is a hard thing to do
Once you let your guard down,
Your future becomes totally uprooted and confused
You see old lover’s faces amongst the crowd,
Taunting us, like thugs

Why do people think that a dark cloud is unattractive?
It’s just as cool as any rainbow sparkles,
and as trendy as any black cocktail dresses

Being in love works well for some,
  It’s chore for others, not a lustful passion.

Let our dark clouds soars with the eagle, but allow
  the poet to write,  let him express his thoughts
Never allow it to vanish into the dark tunnel
Let him grieve, let him write, let him move forward.

He that hath no rule over his own
spirit is like a city that is broken
down, and without wall...

As Cold waters to thirsty soul,
so is good news from a far country*.

Again, you welcome us with tragedy
With Cold, windy stormy winter blues
The unpredictability of lakes and pond ice,
Becomes every fisherman’s worst nightmare

A dead robin outside my bedroom window
Highlight the day. As the high wind
  Slammed against the lids of the city dumpsters
it was so loud it was deafening

Here I am the last cookie poet to enter eagerly into the new-year
With a different perspective, eagerly rehearsing my thoughts
  Before my poem trail off to believers or non-believers alike

You will not ******* away like the north wind
Every line you shall follow by scanning each undusted I’s
I am the poet to unknown regions stray
carrying words of wisdom,
but do bear in mind

*It's easy to cheer when victory's near

I will not follow in the paths of day anymore
back when our thoughts  were not entirely intact,
we must not make the same mistake we made last year.

The hours were long, our wages were small
Somehow, we need and wants were getting greater
Like mines, I wanted more boxes of lobster tails from Maine
But instead I purchase bags of rotten potatoes from the local grocery stores
Did the customers get the most nutrition out of Idaho Potatoes?
Hell no!

I had to make the connection with the dots to connect to the future
It wasn’t an overlooked of the payroll mistakes
It was the greed of the political investors,
But those classes of people, unions, lawyers, and businessmen
Those ******* laboring class of upper people rob us.

Time has passed and hearts were broken
So many innocent lives were taken away from us.
Either by drowning in the rough sea or they got hit by the city buses

They tear us down on every side till  we were numb
They uproot our hope like a tree
Some of us fought with our body to rise,
But encounters dark passages on the rough seas
We shall not follow on the path of the day anymore
A new year, a new beginning, a fresh wipe, a clean slate

Holding hands is not just for crossing the street
But to squeeze each other hands under the sheet
Is the little joy we find these days in contentment: